Playing with the Big Boys
by KosagiNoLegion
Summary: A mysterious new boy joins Conan's class and is befriended by the Detective Boys. It isn't what you think. Chapter 3: Dog Day Afternoon COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

**Playing with the Big Boys **

A Detective Conan Alterverse Fic  
By  
Deborah J. Brown   
Detective Conan is copyright Aoyama Gosho.

Author's Notes: While not part of the Psychic Detective Heiji series, I'll probably end up putting it into the same universe to simplify my life. Icka is the master of multiple alternate universes, but I have trouble remembering where I put my shoes in the morning, much less which universe I'm supposed to be in. Please note, this fic is set during the current _Japanese_ run of Detective Conan, not Case Closed. There will be spoilers for the series here and a character you won't have heard of if you're only watching/reading Case Closed.

Anyway, the idea started as a joke and ended up turning into something a bit more edgy and a bit more serious. This one's also more violent than some of my other DC fics but seeing who I chose for my main character that can't be helped. The mysteries in this series won't be as deep, either. I'll also note that the series explores a theory I have about Ai and her relationship with another important character. Gosho may have fooled me, though, which is why this is AU.

I'll be making further comments on the story in my Live Journal (http/www,livejournal,com/kosaginolegion/). Review here, if you would, but feel free to comment there as well, or respond to stuff there.

Have fun!

* * *

A NEW KID IN TOWN

_PRESENT (Conan): _  
It was an unusual October morning. Winter had come early to Tokyo, dumping tons of snow on the city the week before. Within days, however, the clean-up crews had cleared the streets, allowing everyone to return to their daily business – including thousands of disappointed small children.

The students of class 1B were no exception to the disappointment. They sat in their places, tried not to fidget, but outside was where they longed to be and it showed. Ordinarily Sensei had no trouble controlling them, but today. She'd finally had to tell everyone to put their heads on their desks and sit quietly.

Even Conan, formerly seventeen year old amateur detective, Kudo Shin'ichi, now shrunk to the size of a seven year old, was feeling the strain. School was something of a torture for him anyway and the excitement and nervous energy of the students around him was enough to make even him long to run outside and just _scream_.

The sound of tap, of a door opening and closing, drew the small detective's attention and he couldn't help but twist his head enough to look. Sensei was leaving the room, stepping out into the hallway. He could hear murmurs outside, the principal's voice and the teacher's.

"Pssst. Conan. She said to keep our heads down!" That was Genta. The larger boy was eying Conan worriedly. "You'll get us in trouble."

"Not as much trouble as _you'll_ get us into if you keep talking." Skinny, quickly growing Mitsuhiko protested, eliciting more sshhhhhhhh sounds from other students. Conan tried not to look too disgusted. It never failed. His young friends had a talent for getting themselves – and him – into trouble. He tried to ignore the fact that his own talent for stumbling onto murders and other violent crimes was just as much at fault.

Everyone went silent as the door opened again and Sensei entered. "Children? Please sit up straight and quietly. I have an announcement." Conan lifted his head and waited. There was a mildly concerned look on their teacher's face, but not – he thought – an upset one. Nothing terribly wrong then. Once she had everyone's attention, she continued, "We have a new student transferring in from America. He speaks very good Japanese, though, so you'll have no trouble understanding each other."

A boy was entering the room as the teacher spoke. Skinny, almost as skinny as Mitsuhiko, almost as tall as Genta. His left arm was in a cast, held close against a body dressed in blue slacks and a black turtleneck. Green eyes gazed impassively out from under a shock of thick black wavy hair. His face was angular, as if he hadn't been eating well – unexpected from an American – and his expression was grim and wary. _Like a wild animal expecting to be attacked._ Conan couldn't help but glance at Ai, remembering when that expression had been about the only one _she_ knew.

The boy bowed, a sudden sharp jerk that reminded Conan of a Yakuza tough, or a punk street kid. "Scarlatti Shoji. Pleased to meet you."

_EVENING, SIX DAYS EARLIER (Shoji): _  
He stared.

Somehow the world had grown.

_No. Not grown. I've shrunk._ He looked down at himself, at his sweater and pants, once tight-fitting and now so large that he considered it sheer luck that he wasn't giving his companion a free show. "Jodi. What th"

"Awww. How CUTE!" The slim blonde squatted in front of him and he glared, only to stumble back in shock as she pulled off her mask, revealing a well-known and much hated face. _Vermouth. I'm dead. I am SO dead._ To his surprise she simply reached over and pinched his cheek. "I'd forgotten what a darling six year old you were."

"You you bitch! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?" People were staring. Hurrying past the strange, foul-mouthed little boy, some shaking their head in sympathy for the poor mother.

Vermouth laughed, patting him on the head. "Tut. Such language from such a little boy. Your parents must not have raised you right."

He growled and proceeded to demonstrate just how badly he'd been raised, eliciting a smug, highly amused smile. As he finally wore down she rose to her feet and grasped his hand, dragging him along. In this new form it was terrifyingly easy for her to do so. "WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME?"

"Little boys belong in school," Vermouth laughed. "Where else?"

Somehow all his courage and certainty was draining away. He stared up at the woman he hated and had sworn to stop. "S" He cursed himself, cursed this new vulnerability. "LET GO OF ME!"

"Now, now. You don't want to get in any more trouble, do you, little one?" She considered him carefully. "You'll need some proper clothing, of course. We'll stop and get some, first. And don't swear like that, young man. You'll get yourself in trouble with the teachers."

He stammered. Stammered like the small boy he appeared to be. It was disgusting. "Wh.. why? You had a chance to kill me. Why didn't you?" He expected her usual answer. What other answer could she give but, 'A secret makes a woman, woman'?

Instead Vermouth smiled sweetly down at him. "I just like to have all my silver bullets where I can keep an eye on them."

His six year old body galvanized into action. Instinct combined with stark terror combined with what he considered plain good sense. No matter how you might be injured, you simply did not let your sworn enemy drag you off somewhere. He broke free and ran for it, out into the snow. Behind him he could hear her laughing.

_PRESENT (Conan): _  
Within an hour of his arrival, most of the class had decided that the new kid was scary and to be avoided. Gruff, laconic and terminally disinterested in their games and toys, Shoji was as anti-social as a child could be. Oh, he didn't threaten them, but his expression when they tried to make friends, the cold icy glare when they got too loud around him, his grim tone when he spoke. All combined to make him an unnerving presence in a class that prided itself on its friendliness.

By the time recess was half-way over the only members of the class still showing any interest in Shoji were Genta and Mitsuhiko, and even Mitsuhiko was beginning to get tired of the effort. Conan was a bit surprised that Ayumi wasn't trying too, but realized that the gangly half-American boy intimidated her in a way that Genta did not. _Probably because she grew up with Genta._ Too, Genta had never acted like a barely tamed street kid. Oh, he was big and rough, but his natural gentleness shown thru, even so. There was nothing gentle about Shoji. If anything, there was an undertone of anger, of a rage so intense that it might explode into violent action any minute.

"And then Yaiba's friend _threw_ him at the enemy. Like this! And Yaiba spun around and kicked, and punched and" Genta slipped and nearly fell on the ice as he attempted to demonstrate the moves for the new boy. He was oblivious to the fact that Shoji's stare was more of disbelief than interest.

Ai shook her head as she sipped at her juice. "You'd think by now he'd learn," she muttered. "Not everyone is a Yaiba maniac. Especially not an American."

Now that Conan considered patently unfair. Yaiba might be a kid's show, but "They like things like sentai in America," he pointed out. "Power Rangers, I think they call it there." It'd been a year or so since his last visit to America, but he'd been unable to avoid noticing that the last sentai series in Japan was now forming the nucleus of an Americanized version. He'd not been interested enough to watch it, though.

Surprisingly, his comment drew the new boy's attention. "Power Rangers. Feh. Give me the originals." It intrigued Conan a bit to notice that Shoji had startled himself by his reaction. As if he'd been drawn out despite himself. He stared at Conan, as if daring the smaller boy to say a word. When Conan just smiled, happily, back, he shrugged and added. "You can rent them at Japanese groceries in America, it's not like I'm completely ignorant."

Mitsuhiko's interest was piqued now. "Oh? Which one do you like best? Time Rangers? GoGo V?"

"Kyouruu Sentai Zyuranger," Shoji said after a moment. "I haven't had time to watch the newer ones. Kakuranger was good, too." He glanced at Conan and added, "They had a lot of really old tapes."

Conan shrugged. Though he rather enjoyed Yaiba – despite himself – he'd never quite gotten into the sentai craze the way Mitsuhiko and Genta had. Not surprisingly, Genta was nearly bouncing off the pavement at the realization that the new kid had actually seen a show he hadn't. "Do you have copies?" he demanded urgently. "You can't _get_ those anymore, here. Not unless you got a lotta money and mom and dad won't get me something big like that so all I know about it is from magazines but they sounded like a lot of fun and I really really wish I could see them!"

Green eyes widened at the sheer number of words Mitsuhiko had managed to fit into one sentence. "Er I'm sorry. I didn't bring my tapes with me to Japan. I we traveled light." Shoji shrugged, then winced as if the movement hurt. "Shi I mean, damn I mean uhm Sorry." He rubbed at his arm, not looking nearly as sorry as a child ought to for swearing that way but he was glancing around as if half-expecting an adult to smack him one for his language.

It was Genta who salvaged the situation. "It's all right, Sho-chan. You shouldn't talk like that but you're American. We know you can't help it."

Shoji just sighed. "Great," he muttered in English. "I'm a stereotype."

_EARLY MORNING, FIVE DAYS EARLIER (Shoji): _  
He'd been running for hours now. Evading the police. Evading other adults. Evading _Her_. His shrunken body was all wrong. He kept misjudging, kept slipping and falling in the snow, kept running into things. He'd had to abandon his shoes and socks, though he'd managed to roll his pants and sleeves up so that he didn't have to go naked, his belt tightened as much as possible to keep the pants from falling. He'd been rather tall as a child, the only good fortune he could find in his situation.

A part of him was aware that he was being stupid. That part of him had been shocked into near stupor though and all that was left was blind panic. No one would believe the truth. No one would accept him as he was. Worse, he was as vulnerable as he could be to _Her_. A vulnerability that he knew she'd exploit.

Her laughter when he'd fled kept him running still. What if she knew how to find him? What if part of what she'd fed him had been a tracing device. The thought made him find a dark corner, to force the contents of his stomach out, but even that didn't satisfy him. She'd have thought of that. What was he going to do? The hunter was now the hunted and he understood only too well how his own prey must have felt with him on their trail.

His tangled thoughts were shocked out of their endless circling when an attempt to jump over an icy patch went wrong. He could feel it, halfway across and coming down far too soon. Once again he'd misjudged. His bare foot struck the ice, skidded, sent him flying. He crashed onto his butt, struggled to his feet and cartwheeled the other way.

At full size he would have managed to recover. At full size his body would have cooperated when he twisted to do a roll fall that would have saved him from injury. Instead he came down entirely wrong. He felt the snap as his arm broke, forced back a scream as he lay amid the trash in the alleyway.

Somehow he crawled further into the alley. Somehow he managed to pull himself to a sitting position, though it hurt terribly to do so. He clutched his broken arm, felt tears of pain slide down his cheeks, their heat the only warmth he felt in the chill evening air. He whimpered, trying to fight back the pain enough to think. Enough to _act!_ He failed miserably and when he 'felt' the presence of another person in the alley, he didn't need her voice to tell him that – disguised as a man though she was – it was Vermouth.

"Poor baby. Diddums hurt himself?"

All he could do was whimper.

_PRESENT (Conan): _  
Class was over and – as was usual for Conan's small friends – the Detective Boys were on the case. Or at least looking for a case to be on. Conan always had mixed feelings about the habit. On one hand, his fascination for mysteries, his _need_ to be involved was satisfied. On the other, it sometimes put the others at risk.

_Worse, now we have yet another one._ He wasn't quite sure how Genta had convinced his new buddy to come along, or even how Genta had managed to become the new boy's best buddy in the first place. Admittedly, Conan still wasn't sure how _he'd_ become their friend either, but Shoji wasn't the sort of kid to let himself get dragged into a game he obviously thought rather silly.

Glancing over his shoulder at the taller boy, Conan felt an odd moment of familiarity, as if he'd met Shoji somewhere before. Then Shoji demanded, gruffly, "What're you looking at?"

"Uhm. I was just wonderin'. How'd you break your arm?" Conan forced his eyes wide, made himself look as little and innocent as possible. _Just a little boy. That's all I am. _

The boy's expression shifted. For a moment it went cold, and a bit scary, causing Ayumi to move behind Conan a bit more. Then he snorted, an irritated sound. "Did a stupid move. Slipped on some ice, tried to roll fall out of it and misjudged. No big deal."

Ayumi breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh. I thought maybe you got in a fight." She looked up at the boy. "Did it hurt a lot?" Her natural niceness was coming out, Conan realized, even though Shoji made her nervous.

"I certainly wouldn't recommend it," Shoji answered dryly. Then a small smile curved his lips. "But I'm okay now. It just hurts when I move wrong." An odd expression crossed his face as if he was surprised at his own volubility. From what Conan had seen of the boy, he rather suspected Shoji was used to keeping his opinions to himself. _Ayumi has a way of drawing people out, though. _

"Ohhh. Look! The arcade's re-opened!" Mitsuhiko's voice interrupted the conversation and the others turned to look. "They're supposed to be putting in a new really cool game! Let's go!"

Conan sighed as the others ran forward. _Here we go again,_ he sighed, and was surprised to hear a similar sigh from Shoji. Then the boy set off, long legs moving quickly. "C'mon, kid. Better catch up before they get in trouble."

Conan and Ai stared after him, identical expressions of suspicion forming on their faces.

_LATE AFTERNOON, FIVE DAYS EARLIER (Shoji) _  
He was warm again. It was an incredible feeling, after hours of cold. Wrapped in a blanket, the pain in his arm receded to blissful fuzzies, he simply gazed at the white, softly lit, ceiling and wondered at the terrible dream he'd had. Then a voice spoke, very softly, in his ear. "Listen carefully, little one. You are Scarlatti Shoji. You are _my_ son, injured in an accident when you tried to run away from home. Don't even think about telling anyone differently, because I have the papers to prove it. Not to mention affidavits explaining that you have been deeply troubled since the recent death of your mother. No one will believe you if you try and tell them anything different."

He stared at the ceiling longer, not wanting to acknowledge the voice. Not wanting to accept that this wasn't just a nightmare. But his body was all wrong. He could feel the changes, feel the weakness in his limbs, the _shortness_ of them. It had happened. It had all happened and now Vermouth had him in a bind. He already knew from experience that adults didn't listen to kids, especially kids who've been causing trouble. Vermouth was good. She'd have talked everyone into believing that he was just a messed up kid grieving for his mother. Besides, even if he somehow convinced them that he wasn't Vermouth's son, they wouldn't believe who he really was.

Slowly he managed a nod. He'd cooperate, for the moment, and wait for his next opportunity. Vermouth would be watching, of course, but if he could lull her into believing he was submitting, then he'd have at least a better chance of escape than he did now. Escape was absolutely necessary. He didn't know for certain what Vermouth intended for him, though his imagination was providing some very unpleasant possibilities, the best of which was death and the very worst was to be sold into slavery in a child prostitution ring. _I'll get away before that. I'll have to._

It took an hour before the doctors in the hospital where Vermouth had brought him were satisfied that he could leave. Between the bruises and scrapes he'd achieved in the course of his panicked run and his broken arm they felt he needed some extra observation, in case there was something less obvious, like a concussion. He wouldn't have been surprised if there were, either, his head felt so fuzzy and out of it.

At last, however, Vermouth – disguised this time as an older Caucasian male – got him released and had strapped him into the back seat of her car. Only when they were on the road and moving at a good clip through the falling snow did she speak in the Sicilian of his childhood.

"Stupid. That was about the stupidest thing you've ever done in your life, boy, and you've pulled some real boners! I expected you to run. I didn't expect you to nearly _kill_ yourself running blindly around Tokyo as if all hell were on your tail!" Her voice nearly broke him then and there. It wasn't the tone she usually used. It was an anger he'd heard before, the anger of a parent for a small child who'd scared the living daylights out of said parent. The fear of someone who had nearly lost something important. In his current vulnerable state, the idea that someone cared about what happened to him was nearly enough to unman him.

_She's an actress,_ he reminded himself. _She's probably just trying to make me think she cares. Another of her ways of screwing with your head._ She'd done it before, fooled him before. If there was anything he hated her for most it was for having tricked him so many times into nearly believing in her, into nearly trusting her.

Vermouth continued. "I don't expect you to trust me, boy. But you _will_ cooperate. You _will_ do as I say. Or I'll hand you over to the Black Organization right now." In the rear view mirror, her eyes glanced back to meet his. "And believe me, you are one person they want very dead."

He knew that already. He'd come so close, so very close, so many times, to breaking the organization. To capturing its leader. Which begged the question, "Why? Why are you doing this? Why _not_ hand me over to them now?" His voice sounded infuriatingly fragile to his ears. "And don't give me any crap about silver bullets."

There was silence for a moment. "That's a secret," she said finally. "Because you won't believe me if I tell you. But keep this in mind, little one. Right now the only ones who know who you really are, are you and me. You don't want to face your friends in your condition and you definitely don't want me to give you to _my_ friends. So if you want to have even the slightest chance of regaining your true appearance again You. Will. Cooperate."

He stared grimly ahead of him, at the back of the seat in front of him. His head was spinning, making it hard to think clearly. Could he possibly make the right decision in his current state of mind? "Where are you taking me?" he asked finally, returning to Japanese.

"Our new home. You need a bath and bed."

_PRESENT (Conan): _  
The video arcade had only just re-opened and had not yet filled with customers. Those who were, there, though, were crowded towards the back, watching a video game in action. The fifteen or so customers were gathered tightly there, forcing the Detective Boys to squeeze their way through to the rail. "Oh! Look! They have that new virtual reality game! And it's RAN playing it!"

Conan and Ai halted at the edge of the arena where a long limbed girl was testing the game out. Sensors aimed at the center of the ring gathered information about her movements and translated them into the motions of a character on the video screen. She kicked, high and hard, and the character followed suit, sending the enemy it was fighting flying. Conan winced inwardly, having occasionally been on the receiving end of those kicks when he'd been Ran's size. _This must be the job she was talking about for this afternoon._ Ran wasn't into video games that much ordinarily, but her karate skills were well known in the neighborhood.

"Not bad," Shoji muttered admiringly. "Very good legs, in fact." Conan glanced the taller boy's way, not at all sure he liked someone, especially not a first grader, looking at Ran's legs that way. Then, as if guessing at Conan's thoughts, the boy added quickly, "The kick. She's a black belt, isn't she?"

"That's Ran! She's Sleeping Kogoro's daughter," Ayumi answered, watching Ran admiringly. Though small and rather delicate, the girl hero-worshipped Conan's childhood friend and hoped one day to be like her. Which was, Conan felt, more than the world really needed. He also knew better than to say so. "She's great!"

Ran's demonstration ended then and she noticed Conan and the others. "Oh! Hello everyone! I didn't know you'd come to watch!" She got down, allowing the first person in line to take her place. "Hi, Conan." She straightened his tie and his glasses. "Who's your new friend." She looked at Shoji, smiling. Before anyone could answer, though, someone started yelling at the front of the store.

Before Conan could stop them, Genta and Mitsuhiko were running towards the noise, Ayumi not far behind.

_MIDNIGHT, FOUR DAYS EARLIER (Shoji): _  
He was running, surrounded by black figures, shadows that shifted into each other. Hands reached out, grabbed at him. He huddled in the cold, pain twisting through his body. They were going to kill him. No, whatever they'd do would be worse than death. As they pulled him down he screamed.

Then something warm was touching him, cradling him. A soft voice was murmuring his name, his real name, not the stupid, barely a disguise, one _she_ had given him. It was a voice he knew, had once loved and had come to hate. Yet right in that moment it was the only kind voice he could hear, the only comfort he could find. He knew hostages often became friendly with their kidnappers, understood the psychology behind the reaction and was powerless to defy it. He struggled to force anger to the fore, to fight, but he was so very tired and it all hurt too damned much.

"Drink this, child. You need to sleep more than anything else right now."

He blinked at her, at the cup of warm milk she was holding for him. Ordinarily he would have smashed it out of her hand but his stomach – empty for hours now – demanded otherwise. He took it, tasted the faint medicine taste and glanced at her before drinking it up. It wasn't poison, he knew that much. A sedative of some sort, possibly something else, but she wouldn't be that obvious about it if it were harmful. For some reason she wanted him in good condition.

"Good boy. Tomorrow, if you feel up to it, we'll go shopping." She sighed, the feminine sound of her voice at odds with the very masculine appearance of her disguise. It occurred to him that she looked rather like a slightly younger version of his boss. _No mustache and with his hair dyed brown, though._ "I've gotten you a few things, of course, but I'd forgotten what a long drink of water you were at six, Sho-chan."

Feeling a bit better, head spinning a bit less, he glared at her. "Shopping. Now I _know_ you're trying to torture me. That bath wasn't bad enough?" He had to maintain his poise, had to keep his cool through this insanity, or he would be lost.

Laughter relieved him of any fear that his attitude might push Vermouth in a direction he definitely didn't want her to take. That would have to be the trick. Keep her amused, keep her interested enough not to hurt him. Then, when he found a path out of the mess, make tracks as fast as he damned well could.

"Just one other question," he couldn't help adding. "What then?"

"I already told you. You get a few days rest. Then you get to go back to school. And if you think about it, you'll know exactly where I plan on putting you, with whom and – most importantly – why."

_PRESENT (Conan): _  
It was inevitable, Conan thought, that his companions would be unable to resist the commotion. Equally inevitable that he would follow. He could hardly leave them to run headlong into danger, after all. With a sigh, Conan raced after them, ignoring Ran's cry as he ran.

Rather to his relief, though, the only danger the kids had put themselves into was getting their heads thumped by a trio of teenage punks who he recognized as part of a local gang. Genta was clutching his nose and howling anguishedly, drips of blood coming from between his fingers. Mitsuhiko was sitting on the floor looking startled. Conan started forward, seeing that the third of the punks was about to deliver a similar lesson to a frozen Ayumi. Before he got more than two steps, though, a dark flash of movement passed his left side.

"Big man," Shoji said grimly, standing between the punk and Ayumi. "Picking on little girls."

The fist came down anyway, striking Shoji atop his head and causing Conan to wince. He'd gotten far too many of those kind of punches in the last year. _Though Mouri pulls 'em a bit. That looked painful._ Rather surprisingly, though, the American boy just continued gazing up at the teenager. "That the best you can do?"

Something about the boy's gaze must have given the punk pause. He had a startled look that Conan would have thought was fear if it weren't for the fact that it made no sense for a five and a half foot tall teenager to be intimidated by someone more than a foot shorter and less than half his age. _Okay. I officially regard Scarlatti Shoji as a suspicious character._ Not that he hadn't begun to already.

Before things could descend any further into violence a much needed interruption came in the shape of Ran Mouri. "Children. Leave those boys alone." She walked closer and Conan couldn't blame the punks for being intimidated now. They knew her. Knew her capacity for violent defense of those too weak to protect themselves. "As for you"

"Sorry. Just get 'em away." The punks backed off, an act of unusual wisdom on their part and Ran used the moment to pick Ayumi up and drag Mitsuhiko to his feet. Within seconds the Detective Boys, plus one, were moved away.

_PRESENT (Shoji):  
Well. Now I understand why someone has to keep an eye on these kids. They're trouble magnets._ Shoji rubbed the top of his head ruefully. He wasn't having a very good week, between the broken arm and the near concussion he'd just received at the hands of the punk. If long and bitter experience hadn't taught him that acknowledging inflicted pain only gave the enemy a weapon against you he'd be howling right alongside Genta right now. _That _hurt.

His other reason for keeping his pain to himself knelt in front of him. He hated being mothered, hated being coddled, and Ran Mouri was very much the type to try and do both. She took his face in her hands and bent his head, peering at the growing knot. "That was very brave of you," she told him. "But"

"Not brave," he muttered, irritably. "Someone had to do it." He stepped away from her hands. "I'm okay." He glanced at Genta, who had recovered from his bloody nose with remarkable speed. A few sniffles into blood specked handkerchief, but in general, okay. Mitsuhiko had gotten shoved onto the floor and was rubbing his hind end unhappily. As for Conan, well he'd been smart enough not to run straight into a bunch of frustrated punks looking for _someone_ to take that frustration out on. _And Ai, of course, stayed back entirely. Good girl._ Sometimes discretion is the better part of valor. He only wished Ayumi had that much sense.

Ran rose to her feet and stood shaking her head at the children. "You really do need to be more careful, kids. I know you're interested in mysteries, but it isn't a good idea to go running straight for a fight." She glanced up across the room, where the punks had returned to their argument with the store clerk, who was looking rather bored, despite the way the tallest of the group was screaming in his face. Shoji had to admire the teenage clerk's aplomb.

"BIG IDEA LETTING THE GAME GET BROKEN! YOU BEEN CLOSED A WHOLE WEEK! PLENTY OF TIME TO GET IT FIXED TOO!" The leader of the group was standing beside a game named "Ingram M11", one of the sort that used a fake weapon as its controller. Shoji rolled his eyes. Apparently they really enjoyed the game and took it very amiss that it wasn't available for play. A handwritten sign was taped over the coin slot, proclaiming it out of order. Enraged at this setback to his fun, the punk was waving the controller around as if it were the real thing.

"I keep telling you, the sign was here when I came in to work. I dunno what's up with it." Ask the boss when she comes in." The young man's bored tone just sent his accuser totally incandescent with fury as he raised the controller and aimed it at the clerk.

"Some people really take their games seriously," Ai muttered. "Such a fuss over nothing." She shook her head, turning away. Conan, however, was staring at the weapon in the punk's hand with a look of dawning horror.

Shoji looked closer and launched himself forward, yelling "NO!"

_To Be Continued..._


	2. Friendly Fire

**Playing with the Big Boys **

A Detective Conan Alterverse Fic  
By  
Deborah J. Brown   
Detective Conan is copyright Aoyama Gosho.

Author's Notes: While not part of the Psychic Detective Heiji series, I'll probably end up putting it into the same universe to simplify my life. Icka is the master of multiple alternate universes, but I have trouble remembering where I put my shoes in the morning, much less which universe I'm supposed to be in. Please note, this fic is set during the current _Japanese_ run of Detective Conan, not Case Closed. There will be spoilers for the series here and a character you won't have heard of if you're only watching/reading Case Closed.

Anyway, the idea started as a joke and ended up turning into something a bit more edgy and a bit more serious. This one's also more violent than some of my other DC fics but seeing who I chose for my main character that can't be helped. The mysteries in this series won't be as deep, either. I'll also note that the series explores a theory I have about Ai and her relationship with another important character. Gosho may have fooled me, though, which is why this is AU.

I'll be making further comments on the story in my Live Journal (http/www,livejournal,com/kosaginolegion/). Review here, if you would, but feel free to comment there as well, or respond to stuff there.

Have fun!

* * *

FRIENDLY FIRE

_PRESENT (Conan): _  
"Get down!" Conan yelled as the American boy rushed at the teenager. He wasn't sure how Shoji had recognized what he himself had only just seen, but right now the only thing that mattered was getting his friends to safety.

Ran was staring at him, puzzled, though Ai – having greater experience at recognizing danger – was leaping behind something. The other kids followed suit. At least they'd learned to listen to him when he used that tone. Conan grabbed Ran by the arm and pulled her down on top of him, praying as he did so that he was wrong.

Unfortunately, as was usually the case, he wasn't. The sound of rapid gunfire echoed over their heads, followed by panicked screams and the pounding of running feet. At last, though, there was silence and Conan dared to look up.

The room had cleared almost entirely. The punks' leader was sitting on the ground looking terrified, his companions had fled. Underneath some of the other games, Ayumi, Genta, Mitsuhiko and Ai peered out with worried expressions. On the other side of the teenager, Shoji was curled up in a ball, clearly injured himself in his effort to stop the incident. And on the floor, blood trickling down the side of his head, was the store clerk.

Ran was on her feet rapidly, rushing to the clerk's side, touched his throat, tossed her cell phone to Conan. "Call for an ambulance, Conan. Hurry! Shoji? Are you all right?"

"#Just fine! JUST EFFING MARVELOUS!#" Shoji was speaking in a combination of American and Sicilian and Conan sincerely hoped the other kids wouldn't take it into their heads to learn the new idioms that were pouring from the new boy's mouth. _Got quite a vocabulary there, Sho-_chan Conan couldn't help thinking, adding that point to the rest of his growing suspicions about the 'little boy'._ But, surely, no one would deliberately use such an obvious pseudonym and how could he have gotten_ Conan decided to hold off on making any assumptions without further evidence.

Ran's English wasn't as good as Conan's, but it was good enough for her to recognize some of the curses. Nor did she really need to understand the specifics to understand what he meant. She got to her feet, went to the boy and drew him into her arms. "Stop. Calm down. I'm sure it hurts but talking that way isn't going to help. It'll be okay."

It sort of bothered Conan to watch Ran comforting someone else. On the other hand the American boy needed to be quieted and Ran's effort was working, though not quite in the way Conan suspected she'd intended. The expression on Shoji's face was grim, as if he realized that the only way she was going to stop was if _he_ stopped. _Which is probably true. He doesn't like it, either._

A voice on the other end of the phone in Conan's hand reminded him of his duty. "There's been an accident," he told the emergency operator. "Someone's badly hurt." He quickly added the address. There'd been a time when he'd have had to get off the line before questions could be asked. Something about a small boy's voice calling for help just fired off their suspicions of a hoax. After a year of it, though, they'd come to recognize Ran's cell phone number and know better than to hesitate. _Now for the police._ He started dialing. _Hope it'll be Takagi or Sato. Even Shiratori. They usually listen to me._

_PRESENT (Shoji): _  
"How are you doing?" The young woman police officer sat across from Shoji in the arcade's office. Sato, if he remembered correctly from surveillance. From what he'd seen of her, she was coolly competent and capable, both things he appreciated in a police officer. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Shoji shrugged off the question. "Seen worse," he muttered and realized his mistake immediately. "On CSI," he added hurriedly as Sato stared at him. "Never seen anyone get shot for real before." He hoped she wasn't so competent and capable as to recognize an outright lie.

It was Shoji's good fortune that Sato was no more inclined than the next person to believe that a small child – no matter how unusually mature – would have previous experience with the sort of violence that they'd just witnessed. That she apparently knew a bit about American TV helped. She recognized the name of the show, at least. "You watch CSI?" she asked, startled.

"Uhm Don't tell my father, would you? He'd be really mad at me." His real father had never cared what he watched and _She_ wouldn't really care either, but Sato would have an easier time believing that a first grader from America would sneak a peek at a forbidden show rather than be permitted to watch something as violent and ugly as CSI. _Not to mention about as accurate as a berretta with a silencer,_ he added disdainfully to himself.

Sato nodded. "Deal." She glanced out the door, where the emergency technicians were getting the clerk out of the building, their efforts hampered slightly by the panicked questions of the young punk who'd shot him. "Hey, _Soun-kun_! If you're really so worried about him, then shut up and let them get him to the hospital!"

That had a salutatory effect on the teenager. He backed off, looking near tears, and collapsed back against the wall, sitting heavily and burying his face in his arms. Sato shook her head. "What a mess." She turned back to Shoji. "How did you know it was real?"

"Dad's a gun collector," he answered, and hoped that – if asked, _She_ would catch on quick. _She will. I may fault her morals, but I can't fault her intelligence._ "I know real from plastic." He wasn't sure why the punk hadn't felt the difference, but then he'd never played those type of games. For all he knew, the weight and heft were similar enough to not be noticeable. _Or maybe he was just too busy picking on that clerk to realize._

One of Sato's fellow police stepped to the door. "We'll start gathering evidence, Officer Sato. As soon as we've got some photos of the scene I'll have Yoshi remove the gun from the cable."

"Good. I'll be out in a minute to interview the other witnesses."

"How'd a real Ingram get out on the street here, anyway?" the policeman couldn't help asking. "In America, maybe, but in _Tokyo_?"

Shoji winced. Okay, so yes, American gun laws _were_ more lax than they were in Japan, but it wasn't like every kid on the street could lay hands on an Ingram. He said as much, adding, "It would have had to be smuggled in, wouldn't it? I don't think the American forces here use that model."

Amusement colored the young woman's tone. "Goodness. You've barely been around Conan for half a day and you're already acting like one of the Detective Boys." She frowned then, looking worried. "I don't know, to be honest. There've been rumors of a gun-runner But those guns we confiscated were newer. The one out there is too old to be sold." She paused, looked annoyed with herself. "I really shouldn't be telling you that."

Unrepentantly, Shoji said, "Sorry. I just wondered."

Sato nodded. "Not your fault for being curious. Anyway I may have to ask you more questions, later, Shoji, but for now if you want to go back to your friends you can. How is your arm doing?"

_I really wish she hadn't reminded me._ Shoji had managed, somehow, to shove the pain in his broken arm aside up until now. The dull ache from jarred bone and muscle made him wince. "It hurts but I'll be okay," he answered. Sato looked doubtful but Shoji continued, "No, really. See, the cast kept it from getting hurt worse." He tapped on the cast and forced his face not to show how much doing so hurt. _Have a feeling it's going to need to be reset. Joy. 'Dad' is just going to be thrilled to have to take me back to the hospital so soon._ Not that he minded upsetting _Her_, but he was at her mercy right now. He didn't want her too irritated with him. Just in case.

"All right, then, Shoji. You go on out and wait."

Shoji wasted no time doing so.

_PRESENT (Conan): _  
The police were setting up a tape in front of the building when a tall, slim and very pretty woman entered. Conan had seen her around before, the store manager, named Mrs. Kageshima, though she seemed to leave much of the actual management of the store to the senior clerk – her daughter Tatiana. Her expression was worried, and she spared an irritated glance at the young man who was leaning against the wall. Then she turned to look at Sato. "What, exactly, happened here?"

Conan wandered closer, half-listening to the explanation even as he eyed the crime scene. Sato's voice was quiet as she talked, telling the manager that someone had switched the game's controller for a real Ingram M11, which had then gone off when its would-be player had pulled the trigger. "It would have been disastrous no matter how you look at it," Sato continued, "But unfortunately, he had it aimed at one of your clerks" She paused to look at a notebook, "Taro Yamanori at the time. Thanks to the quick thinking of one of your other customers, though, the weapon was knocked off its aim in time. Only one bullet hit, and it creased Taro's skull instead of entering it. There's a good chance he'll survive."

"Oh! That's good to hear." The manager turned, glanced again at the punk sitting on the floor. "Stupid idiot. Now look what you've done, Hikari Soun!" The boy ignored her though, simply rocked back and forth, making small sobbing sounds.

From beside Conan, Shoji muttered, "If you can't walk the walk, don't talk the talk." He didn't say it very loudly, though, and Conan was fairly sure he was the only one who heard. Green eyes glanced his way, a curious gleam in them. "So, boss. Finding anything important?"

Conan couldn't help but blink at being called boss. "Uhm. How should I know? I'm just a kid. You're the one who watches CSI." Two could play the game of lies and cover-up, after all. The remark elicited a snort. "Do _you_ see anything?"

A dark brow raised. Shoji eyed Conan with an expression that said he wasn't fooling anyone. However, "I'm not that sort of detective, though. I'm lousy at crime scene investigations. Not like your friends and you are. I just know guns and how to _find_ trouble."

Even if Conan's growing suspicions of the boy were wrong, he couldn't help but agree that the last part was true. "So. If that's the case, why don't you tell me about this gun here?" He pointed at the Ingram that hung from the cable attached to the game. If there was an area of Conan's education that was a bit lacking it was military weaponry. He knew enough to know what he _didn't_ know could be important.

"Mmmm. Army issue Ingram M10. A fairly old one, too, from the wear. May have had a plate attached there." Shoji pointed, carefully avoiding touching the weapon, at a pair of small holes drilled into the handle.

"M11, surely?" That startled Conan. He would have expected the weapon to match the game's supposed weapon in order to help the disguise. _Though I suppose the killer may have just used what was available. And that begs another question, how did an assault weapon like this become available in Japan?_

Shoji was shaking his head. "M11 has a longer cartridge and is a bit smaller. Most of the other differences are internal, though, so it's not easy to tell just by looking at it." He squatted, pointed at a shell casing on the floor. "This is what I don't like, though. That particular unit is at least ten years old, and worn. The bullets are one of the new, high powered brands. We're lucky it didn't blow up in that kid's face. Few more shots and it would have."

_PRESENT (Shoji): _  
Shoji knew perfectly well what Conan was suspecting. But then, it wasn't part of his agenda to keep the kid from figuring him out. If anything _She_ expected Conan to do so. _Considering Her choice of names for me, it's not that hard to deduce. Given, of course, that you realize it's possible to go from twenty-six to two decades younger._ That could be a problem, of course, if his real boss figured it out, but that was the risk _She_ was taking. _Me too, for that matter. Black isn't going to be happy when he finds out I'm cooperating with the enemy. Not happy at all._ He just hoped he could talk his boss around if and when the time came.

The Detective Boys were arguing, returning Shoji's attention to the here and now. "It's obviously a terrorist," Mitsuhiko was saying. "Shoji _said_ it was military hardware. You don't think a _soldier_ came in and set it up, do you?" Shoji winced, shaking his head, and Mitsuhiko turned to him for support. "But it _is_ military, right? I heard you say so."

"Yeah, Mitsuhiko, but terrorists blow up big things. Not itty bitty arcades in a Tokyo suburb." _Talk about a big imagination._ Shoji glanced at Ai, who was rolling her eyes behind Mitsuhiko's back. He couldn't really blame her, she never had suffered foolishness gladly. He continued, forcing himself to talk like another child, "Why'd a terrorist wanna do in some stupid clerk anyway?"

"Given what you say is true about the bullets is true, though," Conan mused, pacing around the area and eyeing the crime scene as much as he could without drawing attention, "It could just as easily have been the shooter who was the intended victim. Or perhaps both." He shook his head, adding. "Motivu, Metudo, Miins"

Something of Shoji's confusion must have shown in his face, because Ayumi took pity on him. "The three 'M's of murder. The reason a murder happens, what the murder uses to accomplish it and how the murderer gets the method and the victim together."

_Great. Now I'm being lectured by a seven year old girl on crime solving._ The truth was, though, that his skills had been geared towards hunting criminals down, not figuring out who the criminal was and accusing them. "What about psychos?" Shoji couldn't help asking. "They don't kill people for any reason."

Ai took her turn, "Not true. Even a psycho has a motive. The difficulty is figuring it out so you can predict their next victim." She glanced at Conan, who nodded. "Of course, motive isn't a good way to find a murderer, anyway. Some victims have so many enemies it's a wonder they haven't been stabbed, shot and poisoned all at once."

"So we gotta figure out how the murder was done, right Conan?" Genta chimed in. "Hey. Conan. Cooonnaaaan."

Apparently the lecture had bored Conan almost as much as it had bored Shoji. He'd wandered into the manager's office. _Hmmm. That could be a problem for him._ The kid had a lot of charisma and Officer Sato seemed to regard him with a certain amount of respect, but there had to be limits.

Somewhere behind Shoji he could hear Sato talking to the manager and the remaining two clerks. To his right were some uniformed cops, busily taking measurements and carefully examining the game machine. Further along the wall, one was trying, valiantly, to question Soun. _With limited success. Kid's having a complete breakdown._ Seeing Ran looking around as if trying to find someone, he trotted towards her. "Miss Ran? I gotta go potty."

The girl paused and looked down at Shoji. "It's up those stairs," she pointed, "First door on your left."

Shoji decided that pathos wasn't something he could do. Instead he told her gruffly, "Need help." He gestured at his left arm. "My pants." He tried very hard not to glare, not to show his embarrassment, particularly in the face of her obvious sympathy.

"Oh, I see. You can manage everything but the button, right?" Ran took his hand, glanced over her shoulder at Ai. "Would you find Conan for me? Tell him not to get in people's way."

"All right. Though I doubt I'll be all that successful," Ai answered, sourly. "You know how he is."

The sigh Ai's statement elicited was testimony to Ran's long experience with the little boy. Then she smiled down at Shoji. "Come along, Shoji."

Shoji just hoped Conan appreciated the sacrifice as she led him out of the room.

_PRESENT (Conan): _  
Conan did indeed appreciate Shoji's quick distraction. He'd been half-expecting to have to hide under the desk or something when he'd heard Ran asking about him. That was the trouble with being seven or so years old in the eyes of the world. It made it really difficult to properly investigate things.

_And it can't be easy for 'Sho-chan' either,_ he thought, scanning the room. _If I'm right about him, that is. He had to be at least ten years older than we were._ The trouble was, he couldn't very well ask outright. If he was right, Shoji knew who _he_ was and possibly even whom Ai was. If he was right, Shoji was a victim of the same drug that had turned himself and Ai into small children. If he was right, he knew exactly whom Shoji had been before being transformed. _And that doesn't make me feel any better, for all that he's supposedly on the side of the law. There's always been something not quite trustworthy about that man._

The main thing was that all of those ifs couldn't be easily proved unless Shoji outright admitted the truth. In which case it would be exceedingly stupid of Conan and Ai to admit it either. _Stalemate. None of us dare admit a thing._ Conan shook off the thoughts hurriedly, reminding himself that there was a case to solve.

"Whatcha find, Conan?" Ayumi, Genta, Mitsuhiko and Ai were standing in the doorway, all – even Ai – with identical expressions of annoyance. They hated it when he tried to handle things on his own. Which wouldn't have been so bad if they were all like he and Ai was, but they were _kids_ for God's sake. If he could have kept them out of trouble he would have.

Recognizing the inevitable, however, Conan shook his head. "Nothing yet." Then again, there was one thing. _That picture frame. Something's missing._ He pointed. "I wonder what used to be in there with the other picture?"

Genta pulled a chair over to the wall and jumped up. "Huh? Whaddya mean, Conan?" He peered at the picture, a photo of the store's employees in a line. "Oh. Wait. It's faded differently in the upper left corner. A square shape." It rather pleased Conan that Genta had noticed after having it obliquely pointed out. He and the other two _real_ children were learning quickly.

Excitedly, Mitsuhiko tried to see past Genta's large bulk. "Oh! Maybe it's a picture of the murderer!" As Conan winced over the rapid leap to conclusions the thinner boy tugged at Genta, demanding that he get out of the way.

"Hey! You kids get outta there!"

Conan sighed. Leave it to the rest of the Detective Boys to make enough ruckus to get the grownups' attention. Not even Officer Sato was going to put up with this blatant an interference with the investigation process. He ran out of the room, though, knowing better than to argue.

He'd just have to hope there weren't any real clues hiding in that room. Either that or wait for another moment to investigate further. _In the meantime, there's the game machine_.

_PRESENT (Shoji): _  
He had to hand this much to Ran. She had the sense to recognize how little Shoji really _wanted_ her help. She undid the button for him, held the door to the bathroom open, and let him manage the rest while standing out of sight outside the small room. "You should get pants with snaps, or something easier to manage, Shoji."

"My clothing from home got stolen off the plane," Shoji explained, using the excuse Vermouth had used when they'd gone shopping. "And we couldn't find anything with snaps on such short notice." It would have been easier if the school's dress code had allowed for proper jeans but comparatively easy-going though they were about clothing, there were limits. He came out, let Ran do up the button and went back to the sink to finish washing up, wincing a little at the little 'feminine' touches that decorated the room. He couldn't really blame the owners much though, apparently the upstairs were living quarters for the manager and her family, though the rest of their rooms were locked off from the stairway by a heavy metal door. "Thanks," he added, and noted that his tone was more than a bit grudging. "Er Sorry. It just makes me so mad, this arm."

In the mirror, Shoji could see Ran's nod. Rather to his relief, he didn't have to explain the whole thing again. He turned his attention to getting his hand cleaned, then frowned. Something was poking a small corner out from under the mirror. It wouldn't have been visible from an adult's height, but from his position it was clearly there. He reached up, used a fingernail to pull the thing out.

"Shoji, you shouldn't" Ran's scolding paused as he held up the thing that had been hidden behind the mirror. "What's that?"

'That' was a photo, two men in fatigues bearing the insignia of military field unit, standing in the desert sun in front of an Israeli tank. _No. Not two _men_. One of those is a woman. The manager._ He said as much, half-forgetting that he was supposed to be a small child. "Looks like a clue to me."

Ran sighed. "What is it about Conan that causes kids to turn into little detectives?" she wondered aloud. Still, she obviously agreed with Shoji's assessment, because she took the photo between her fingers delicately, avoiding touching the surface. Which was good, Shoji thought, because photo material took fingerprints beautifully.

Heading downstairs, Shoji spotted Conan squatting beside the game machine, watching the policeman who was detaching the Ingram with that intent gaze. Ran made an irritated sound. "Conan, don't bother the nice policeman."

"But."

"Conan."

"It's alright, Miss Ran. He isn't in the way." The policeman smiled up at Ran, clearly amused at his audience. Not for the first time Shoji marveled at Conan's skill at convincing the adults around him that his curiosity was merely the understandable interest of a small child. _Not to mention convincing them to cater to that curiosity._

Conan smiled charmingly up at Ran, giving Shoji a clue as to how the boy got his way around his old friend. Everything he'd seen of the pair up until now told him that Ran – all proofs aside – still harbored the odd suspicion of Conan. If nothing else, the boy's resemblance to her 'missing' friend must have made it hard for her to refuse him something he obviously enjoyed, if only because she missed Kudo Shin'ichi.

Ran shook herself, obviously reminding herself of the case at hand, and took the photo Shoji had found over to Sato. As the two spoke, Conan tried to peer at the photo, hopping up and down in a way that nearly caused Shoji to forget himself and start laughing. The small snort that _did_ escape his lips was enough, though, to elicit a glare from the small detective and he shrugged apologetically. "Uhm. Could Conan see?" he asked. "It's not like it'd hurt if he just looks at it, would it?"

_PRESENT (Conan): _  
Torn between irritation at Shoji's help and curiosity over what had been found, Conan contented himself with shooting another sour look at the taller boy before peering at the photo that Officer Sato obligingly turned to show him. That was one of the nice things about Sato. She might not always approve of the Detective Boys' tendency to find trouble, but she paid _attention_ to what he said. Often it meant that he didn't even have to bother with his sleeping darts, because a few well-chosen questions from him usually put her on the right track.

Well chosen questions like, "Oh. Doesn't the Israeli Army use Ingrams? They're in one of the fields in that game, after all." The weapon was the biggest clue to the murderer _would-be murderer,_ he hoped after all. An Ingram of any sort simply wasn't the kind of thing one would expect to find casually lying around.

Mrs. Kageshima was looking at the picture with a startled expression that quickly shifted to complete blankness. "Oh. That. I was a Red Cross volunteer in Israel when I was younger. How'd you get it from my picture frame?"

As Ran explained where the picture had been found, Conan mulled over the case. The photo provided a clue as to where the Ingram might have come, though he wasn't sure yet how the manager could have gotten the thing into Japan. Then there was the incorrect bullet types. Was that because the murderer didn't care who was hurt, or because they were simply ignorant?

Officer Sato was returning to her questioning, having determined that the photo – while possibly important – wasn't going to solve the case for her. Conan listened carefully, analyzing reactions as the manager explained that her husband, a mercenary in Israel, had once owned an Ingram similar to the one used in the crime. "But I left it behind when my daughter," she pointed off at the teenage girl working the counter, "and I came back to Japan. After her father was killed."

Sato nodded. "I see. Well, it's unfortunate – but not unexpected – that the serial number has been scraped off." She gestured at the weapon being placed on a nearby counter to be photographed more carefully. "Otherwise I'd ask you to check if you had a record of it."

The manager shrugged. "I doubt I'd have it on hand anyway. I've tried to put that time of my life behind me."

Still listening, Conan drifted towards the game, eyeing the cable hanging from it, as well as the young man still seated against the wall. Hikari Soun was still upset, shaking like a leaf over the whole matter. It seemed strange to Conan that the boy would react that strongly and he wondered if perhaps it was over-acting. His explanation of his behavior had been suspicious too, even though the employees had confirmed that he'd had a habit of play shooting the game's controller at the clerk who'd been injured. Apparently the two had a long history of arguing and fussing at each other. This despite a friendship that had led to the clerk often letting him stay after closing hours to play on the Ingram.

"I didn't really like him doing it, of course, but he only let Hikari stay until he was finished with cleaning up. I didn't want Taro having to walk home by himself and though Hikari's a brat and a thug he always took care of Taro." The manager shot the youngster another sour look. "I don't know what Taro sees in him, though."

Officer Sato turned to look at the young man. "That's enough, boy. Get on your feet."

Hikari looked up, face red and raw from crying. _No. That isn't acting. A gang-leader like him wouldn't dare let everyone see him like this unless he simply couldn't control it._ If what the manager said was true and Hikari was Taro's friend, though, the shock of nearly killing the other boy might be enough to push a rather overwrought personality over the edge.

Somehow the boy got to his feet, forced himself to stand straight. "What what do you want?"

"Didn't you notice the controller had changed?"

"I dunno. Maybe. I was fighting with Taro. He wanted me to do something and I didn't want to do it."

"What did he want you to do?" The question caused the boy to bristle and Sato raised a warning brow. "And before you tell me that it isn't my business, keep in mind that you may have had as much opportunity as anyone else in this store to change the controller, since your friend apparently let you in when it was closed."

Angrily, Hikari glared at the policewoman, red dyed hair standing practically on end. "What? You think _I_ did it? I only ever saw one other real Ingram in my life!" His shout died down as he realized what he'd just admitted. "Oh God I didn't. I swear"

Brow raised even further, Sato gazed levelly at the boy. "Then perhaps you'd care to explain just how it was you _have_ seen anything of the sort?"

Stammering, staring from face to face, Hikari stumbled backwards. Only another voice, that of the manager's daughter, broke through his desperate attempts to backtrack. "I showed it to him."

To Be Continued...


	3. Dog Day Afternoon

**Playing with the Big Boys **

A Detective Conan Alterverse Fic  
By  
Deborah J. Brown   
Detective Conan is copyright Aoyama Gosho.

Author's Notes: While not part of the Psychic Detective Heiji series, I'll probably end up putting it into the same universe to simplify my life. Icka is the master of multiple alternate universes, but I have trouble remembering where I put my shoes in the morning, much less which universe I'm supposed to be in. Please note, this fic is set during the current _Japanese_ run of Detective Conan, not Case Closed. There will be spoilers for the series here and a character you won't have heard of if you're only watching/reading Case Closed.

Anyway, the idea started as a joke and ended up turning into something a bit more edgy and a bit more serious. This one's also more violent than some of my other DC fics but seeing who I chose for my main character that can't be helped. The mysteries in this series won't be as deep, either. I'll also note that the series explores a theory I have about Ai and her relationship with another important character. Gosho may have fooled me, though, which is why this is AU.

I'll be making further comments on the story in my Live Journal (http/www,livejournal,com/kosaginolegion/). Review here, if you would, but feel free to comment there as well, or respond to stuff there.

Have fun!

* * *

DOG DAY AFTERNOON

_PRESENT (Shoji): _

The silence was absolute. Even the punk had stopped protesting to stare at the girl, though from the relief on his face it seemed fairly likely that his only real surprise was the fact that she'd made such an admission. Shoji eyed Conan, noted the intent look on the boy's face and waited. There wasn't much he could do at this point, after all. Conan might have an idea what was going on, but _he_ was clueless.

"Tatiana!" Mrs. Kageshima gasped, voice shocked.

"I'm sorry, mom I snuck dad's old Ingram back home with us Broke it down and hid the pieces in the packing crates." The girl looked deeply embarrassed. "I was just going to show it to Taro cuz he likes that game. But _he_" she pointed at Hikari, "wouldn't go away."

It took everything Shoji had not to shout at the girl, to demand what she thought she was doing, sneaking a gun through customs like that. Fortunately, her mother did it for him, yelling at the girl in a combination of Japanese and Hebrew while the girl yelled back angrily. Only Officer Sato's sharp voice cutting through the argument stopped the two. "Enough. Mrs. Kageshima, could you look at the weapon, then, and see if it is the one belonging to your husband?"

"I already know it isn't," Mrs. Kageshima denied. "His had a lion's head engraving on the side. For the battalion he was in."

It occurred to Shoji to wonder if she was telling the truth but Hikari nodded. "Yeah. It did. And a big scratch on the barrel."

Shoji glanced over at the weapon. "Like that one?" he asked, pointing. "And there are two screw holes. Was the piece itself engraved or was it an engraved plate?"

The look on the woman's face was utterly unreadable, but years of instinct told Shoji he'd scored in an unexpected way. For some reason she hadn't wanted the gun to be identified as her husband's. She turned to Officer Sato and asked, irritably, "Why are you allowing these _children_to interfere with a criminal proceedings?"

The young woman eyed Mrs. Kageshima. "They're here because they're witnesses," she noted. "As for interfering They've not touched any evidence – aside from that photo – and have stayed out of the way. For the most part." Her eyes narrowed. "And young Shoji has asked a very good question. _Was_ that Ingram the one your daughter brought back with her from Israel?"

Mrs. Kageshima shrugged. "I don't know. I still say it doesn't look like Yuri's. Tatiana, what did you do with the Ingram when you were done showing off?" Her tone was sour as she glanced at her daughter.

Tatiana blinked, startled. "Uhm. I put it away where I've always kept it. In Dad's old gun safe. Upstairs in my room. Should I go get it? Or show someone?" At Officer Sato's agreement, the girl hurried upstairs, accompanied by one of the police officers.

"Now then," Sato said, once the two were gone. "Hikari. Tell me what it was you were fighting over."

oOo

_PRESENT (Conan): _

It didn't surprise Conan at all that Officer Sato returned to the earlier subject, but it clearly startled Hikari. "I."

Impatience in her tone, Officer Sato shook her head. "Boy, just don't argue with me. You may have been staying out of trouble these last few months but you're still on probation. Now, answer the question."

Hikari's shoulders slumped and it was clear from his expression that he really didn't want to say anything. Pleadingly, he looked at the policewoman. "Could I tell you in private?"

The sigh Officer Sato released came straight from her feet. "All right. But it better be good." She walked away from the counter with the boy, taking him to a corner and gesturing for him to talk. _Drat. Vital evidence within a few yards of me and I can't tell what they're saying._ It was so damned frustrating, sometimes. Even Officer Sato wasn't going to let a seven year old listen in on evidence being given in private. _She probably wouldn't have let me listen in if I were my true size, either,_ he had to admit to himself. _Still. Drat._

A startled sound from Shoji caused him to look at the taller boy. Green eyes were narrowed watchfully, small dark brows drawn together in a frown. Then a slow, highly amused – even smug – smile curved his lips. "Well, well," he muttered and Conan realized he was reading Soun's lips. Conan cocked his head at Shoji, who glanced over at him, then at the others, reminding him that anything said here would be overheard. _Drat again._

Shoji's fingers moved, rubbing at his cast. "I hope we can go soon," he said. "It's getting late. Almost cocktail hour." For a brief moment Conan had to wonder what that had to do with the situation. Then it hit him. The Black Organization and their alcohol based code-names. Still, being a small boy gave him an excuse to stare blankly at the taller boy. Shoji grinned. "Like a _Gin_ and tonic. Or _Kirsch_."

_Gin. Soun is telling Sato about Gin. Or about someone who may be Gin._ Conan frowned at Shoji, wondering if there was a way to tell if this was important to the case or not. _Kirsch. That was the codename of that reporter I accidentally bugged._ The taller boy grimaced. "Oh, never mind. I guess it's not important. I'm just getting tired." From his expression and the way his hand kept going to his broken arm, Shoji wasn't entirely faking it. Nor could Conan blame him. His arm had to be killing him and only natural stoicism kept him from showing it. _And that's yet another proof for my suspicions. A kid his supposed age would be in tears by now._

"Do you want to sit down, Shoji?" Ran started to ask, only to be interrupted by the sound of the policeman and Tatiana re-entering the room, carrying an unlocked gun case with another Ingram in it.

oOo

_PRESENT (Shoji): _

As Sato listened to her fellow policeman's report on finding the case under the girl's bed, unlocking it and discovering the Ingram – complete with engraved plate - inside, Shoji contemplated what he'd gleaned from Soun's conversation. Glancing sideways at Conan he stepped back to the nearest wall to lean tiredly against it. It wasn't all that hard to play the exhaustion card. _I've had a very bad week,_ he thought, still disgusted at himself for having broken his arm in the first place.

Conan joined him, looking up. "You okay, Shoji?"

"Been better. Been much worse." Shoji forced himself not to shrug, though the gesture was almost automatic. It hurt too much. "Think you can solve it soon? I really could use a lie down."

"Was Soun's evidence any use? Other than of interest due to our mutual 'friends'?"

Shoji sighed at the tacit admission of their situation. Watching the others closely he spoke as softly as he could, keeping his lips as still as possible, "He and his friend witnessed a gun deal for an assassination attempt." He saw Conan's expression shift as the boy remembered the chase after Kirsch, the desperate attempt to stop the assassination of the Diet member. "No names, though, and he didn't know who the dealer was."

Now that obviously intrigued Conan. The smaller boy gazed off into space, _that _expression on his face. "So he saw a gun deal going down. Could they have seen him?" Shoji couldn't answer that question. "But why use an old weapon like that Ahh! Of course."

At Shoji's puzzled expression Conan grinned. "The problem is, proving it." He moved closer to the scene near the counter, listening and Shoji watched from his position.

"You see? It's not my husband's old Ingram. Tatiana and I are going to have a long talk about it later, but." Mrs. Kageshima looked at Sato with an annoyed expression.

The annoyance was obviously shared. Sato gazed back with the sort of cool expression that Shoji had long since learned from other women was sure sign of complete and utter disbelief. "Mrs. Kageshima. Are you going to tell me, then, that there are two such weapons floating around Tokyo? So close to each other? Are you sure _you_ didn't bring one back with you as well? You were apparently a soldier too, based on the photo. Not just a Red Cross volunteer."

"Yakuza."

"Would want new weapons. Even if there is an illegal market for guns and other armaments in Tokyo, I find it hard to believe that they'd accept such an old weapon as those two." Sato cocked her head at the manager, raising one brow and pointed from the murder weapon to the one in the gun case.

Ayumi's voice, small and high-pitched, sounded then. "Conan? Why does it matter if the gun was hers or not?"

Shoji couldn't help but smile to himself at the pleased look on Conan's face. The little girl had asked the question out of pure curiosity but it provided him a springboard for planting yet another clue in Sato's head. Not that the police woman needed much prompting. "Because," the boy said quietly, "If the gun belonged to her then it was locked up, upstairs. So only someone able to get into their rooms could have gotten to it. No one was allowed up there except Mrs. Kageshima and her daughter. Otherwise Tatiana would have taken Taro upstairs, not brought the gun down."

Mrs. Kageshima made a sour face. "Hikari could have found it somewhere else," she grumbled, causing the boy to shake his head, stammering denials. "I already told you that Taro was letting him in after hours. They must have had a bigger fight than usual and he decided to get rid of his friend. A lover's spat, no doubt." Her comment caused most of the adults to start and stare at the miserable looking boy, while the children – the real children – simply blinked confusedly. Sato, on the other hand, just rolled her eyes - apparently she already knew that little detail.

" I didn't PLEASE."

Shoji gave the older boy a sour look, wishing the kid would get it together. "You're giving punks a bad name," he muttered. Though if Mrs. Kageshima's accusation was more than just hyperbole his over-reaction to Taro's injury was more understandable.

"I'd rather DIE than hurt Taro! I swear! I. I" Conan and Shoji glanced at each other and neither were terribly surprised when the boy choked out, "I love him. I could never hurt him." The words was torn from his lips and Shoji couldn't really blame him for not wanting to speak. That just wasn't the sort of thing you admitted to.

"Of course not," Mrs. Kageshima continued, apparently unsurprised. Which she wouldn't be, because she'd probably had ample time to observe the two boys. "You two were always arguing. You probably got tired of him nagging you to reform."

The boy stood stock still and stared down at his feet, tears dripping down his cheeks. "No. I didn't. I didn't. I wouldn't. I couldn't."

Conan interrupted the flow. "But where would he have gotten another old Ingram, anyway? There was only the one, right?" He peered up at the young policeman who'd gone upstairs with Tatiana. After a helpless look at Sato, the man nodded. "See?"

It was clear from Mrs. Kageshima's expression that she was getting flustered and annoyed. "Maybe he found some gun dealer on the street with an old one that he wanted to get rid of. How should _I_ know? All I know is that that isn't my husband's Ingram."

Dark blue eyes went as big as saucers as they looked up at Mrs. Kageshima. "Then that one has to be, right?" Conan pointed at the gun sitting in the case. "So its serial numbers will match."

"Even if the serial numbers didn't match my husband's weapon," Mrs. Kageshima pointed out, "there's still no way of proving the other _is_. The serial numbers were erased."

Conan smiled as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "But there's a way to get the serial numbers even so? Shoji says they can in America." The boy glanced Shoji's way, adding, "Right, Shoji?"

Shoji knew why Conan was using him as an information source. A seven year old Japanese boy wouldn't have that kind of knowledge. "Somethin' like that. Saw it on CSI. Rub th' area flat and use acid. Place where th' numbers got printed will be harder and show up different."

Before Mrs. Kageshima could open her mouth to speak, her daughter moved, pushing her way past the policeman between her and the gun on the counter, grabbing it up and turning to aim it, shakily, at the rest of the room.

oOo

_PRESENT (Conan): _

_Well. This is _not_ what I expected._ Conan froze as completely as he could. The girl was waving the gun around wildly, eyes huge and scared. "No. Mom didn't do it. I DID!" She aimed the gun at Hikari. "It's _his_ fault. His and Taro's. They ignored me. Always ignored me. So I decided to kill Taro. Make Hikari hurt for having killed him!"

It sounded like a good story but Conan was pretty damned sure it wasn't true. With the girl armed and very dangerous – especially with _that_ gun – he didn't dare argue with her. Beside him, he could feel Ran's hand on his shoulder, her body stiffening. _DAMN IT ALL!_

Mrs. Kageshima took a step towards her daughter. "Tatiana. Don't be a fool!" Her expression was terrified and Conan knew why. _Those bullets. Those damned new bullets that she put in there. She knows what could happen if Tatiana fires._ Only luck had prevented the first catastrophe.

"Please, mama. Get out of the way. I don't want to hurt you."

Angrily, Mrs. Kageshima yelled, "Stupid! You can't fire that thing. You'll be killed!" She halted, obviously realizing that she was revealing herself. Then she sighed. "The bullets, Tati. They're too new. Please don't pull that trigger. It'll blow up in your face. You might get one shot maybe even two but."

"Mama?" Tatiana's voice broke. "You you don't understand I have to." The gun wavered.

"Baby. Just put it down. Carefully. Please." The woman slumped a bit, looking exhausted. "It all went wrong. It's not your fault. You couldn't know. I didn't want you involved. I know you're trying to protect me. It's too late. I don't want you to get yourself killed, doing this."

Conan pulled himself together, moved slowly out of Ran's grip, despite her attempt to stop him. "Miss Tatiana? Even if the gun works, are you going to shoot us all? Even me? And Ayumi? And Ai?" The girl's lips trembled. "Please. You've always been so nice to us, Miss Tatiana. Please don't shoot."

Rather to Conan's surprise, Hikari spoke then. "The kid's right, Tati. You don't know what it feels like. You don't know how bad it can be shooting someone. It's awful. Don't. Please don't."

"YOU'RE JUST SCARED I'LL SHOOT YOU FIRST!"

"Wouldn't you be?" Shoji asked. "No one wants to die. And your mom's right. Those bullets'll blow that gun sky-high."

Tatiana stared at the group and Conan was dimly aware of movement at the doorway. "Quickly! Put it down before _you_ get shot!" he shouted, realizing that other police were out there, preparing to fire should the chance arise. "Just put it down."

"Mama?"

Voice tired, exhausted, Mrs. Kageshima sighed. "Do it, child. Please."

Slowly, terribly slowly, Tatiana lowered the gun, bent over and put it on the ground. "I'm sorry mama."

Then the police were on both the girl and her mother, handcuffing them and taking them away.

oOo

_PRESENT (Shoji): _

"Mrs. Kageshima was the gun dealer Taro and Hikari had witnessed. She overheard them talking about it and thought she'd been recognized. Since she was afraid the boys would talk, she decided to kill them. She set up that trap because she knew about Hikari's game with Taro." Shoji listened to Sato finishing up the explanation to Inspector Megure – who had arrived not long after the arrest to find out what was going on.

Megure shook his head. "Awfully risky, though."

"That's why she put the out of order sign up. The machine wasn't really broken, but she knew most people would just go on to another game. Hikari was practically addicted to it, though and he'd certainly have a fit over it being broken. She also made sure not to have the store open until just after his classes let out, so he'd be among the first to arrive. He always picked on Taro – part of their relationship, I guess – and she could be fairly confident that he'd fire. Habit would probably make him pull the trigger two or three times before he realized what was happening. And even if it only killed Taro and failed to explode in Hikari's face, it would still put Hikari under suspicion." Sato sighed as she spoke, adding, "She hid the evidence that she'd had anything to do with a source for such weaponry, but I'm still not sure why she switched the weapons. She could have just used her own – apparently smuggled in along with the one her daughter brought along."

That Shoji thought he could answer, now that he'd had a chance to get a good look at the second Ingram. "Officer? It's cuz it's got a broken bolt handle." He pointed at the top of the boxy shape, where the knob in question wasn't. "It's gotta have that to fire."

"I see. Well, that explains it then." Sato shook her head. "I really have to wonder about you, young man. I know that guns are more common in America, and your father's a collector, but still."

Shoji smiled, as perkily as he possibly could, and from somewhere behind him Ai made a disgusted noise. "It's just cuz of dad," he answered. "And he's always careful t'teach me to respect guns. I'd _never_ use one casually. _Not ever_!" _Shooting the hell out of Gin doesn't count as casual. Besides. That was just a love tap. If I'd wanted him dead he _would_ be._ The memory of the look on Gin's face was precious to him and he had to force back the smile.

With a sigh that spoke volumes, Sato nodded. "All right. Unless you go around causing trouble I have no business questioning how you were raised." She looked at the Detective Boys and at Ran. "I think that you all could go now. I'll let you know if we need any of you for witnesses. From the looks of things, though, Mrs. Kageshima is going to be very, very cooperative."

Ran nodded and guided the little group out of the building. "Honestly. I don't know how you bunch get into so much trouble," she scolded as they left. "And you, Shoji. Surely you're old enough to know better."

Shoji sighed. _How many times have I heard _that_ one?_ he wondered as they headed down the street. The afternoon sunlight was just fading towards evening and he was feeling very tired, very hungry and a bit sorry for himself. _I just hope She has some decent food waiting._

"You know," Ai said softly to him as she passed him, heading towards the front of the group to join Ayumi, "You'd pass a lot better if you tried harder to act like a child."

Now that struck Shoji as particularly funny and he tried not to laugh aloud until she was out of earshot. Beside him, Conan shot him a curious look and he grinned, genuinely amused for the first time in over a week. "Look who's talking," he muttered to the boy and Conan couldn't help grinning back in response. "Of course, she was that way when she was three. I don't know why she'd have changed."

oOo

_PRESENT (Conan): _

Startled, Conan stared up at the thin, taller boy. "Huh?"

"Think about our names, kiddo. Our real ones. Then you can guess one of the reasons you don't have to worry about me keeping an eye on her." Green eyes gazed off into the distance. "I'd keep her away from my 'father' though if I were you."

Conan blinked. Thought very hard about the question. _Shiho. Akemi. **Shuichi.** Four, three and one._ He gazed at Ai's back, spoke very quietly because if Shoji had meant her to know he would have said that while she could hear it. _And I don't like that comment about the father. Does that mean his boss doesn't know about Ai and he doesn't _want_ him to know? Or._ "One's missing."

"Jichirou died in a bus accident when he was four. Following me around." The boy's voice went grim and achingly sad. "My fault. He wouldn't have been on the bus if I hadn't let him come. _They_ never forgave me." A sudden mercurial change of emotional reaction caused Shoji to grin. "Ahh, it's all old news. Not part of the current situation. I'm talking too much. Must be tired. Sorry."

Conan nodded, walked in amiable silence beside the taller boy. Shoji wasn't like Heiji, not the sort of person to follow his line of reasoning, or even outstrip it, but it was sort of nice to have someone else - another _guy_ - he could talk to like an adult. Admittedly, Akai Shuichi had been around ten years his senior before this, but the age difference wasn't all that great considering that Kudo Shin'ichi had been a rather mature seventeen year old. _Or at least I'd like to think I was._ It also helped that he was beginning to suspect Akai of being rather younger emotionally than his physical age. _All that creeping around, acting like a suspicious looking stranger. And shooting out Gin's telescopic sight that day. _That_ was just showing off._ "So. Uhm Don't suppose you'd want to tell me how."

"Nope. Not a chance. Too embarrassing."

That was fair enough. For the moment, Conan would leave things where they stood. Someday, he might _need_ to know how Akai Shuichi had ended up transformed down to Scarlatti Shoji, it was enough to know he had. "Must have been a whopper of a dose," he muttered.

"Yeah."

"Ai might find a cure."

"I hope so. I really, really hope so." Shoji grimaced. "I don't know how you put up with it."

Grinning up at the taller boy, Conan answered, "Practice. Lots and lots of it."

oOo

_PRESENT (Shoji): _

"Don't slam the door, Sho-chan. Did you have a nice day?" Scarlatti Giorgio, AKA Vermouth, AKA Sharon Vinyard, AKA Chris Vinyard, _AKA The Pain In My Ass That Won't Go Away,_ looked up from the stove where she was scalding a simple meal of stir fried pork and rice and smiled at Shoji. "I'm afraid we're going to have to eat out again, by the way."

Shoji rolled his eyes. He was coming to the conclusion that Vermouth's decision to coerce him into helping her out with whatever crazy idea she had now had been one of her least thought out plans. "If we're going to be living alone, you are going to have to learn to cook, 'Dad'. I'm getting tired of take-out... and I'm too damn short to reach the stove."

"Always complaining. You haven't told me how your day was, child."

"Well, if nothing else, I see what you mean about that boy being a trouble magnet. Explain to me exactly how it is that the other kids' parents let them hang around playing detective?" That was one thing he had yet to figure out, and Vermouth had told him very little of the situation, feeling that he ought to get a fresh view of it before messing things up with facts. _Which is, of course, bull. It's just Vermouth being herself again. Her and her damned secrets._

"I believe Genta and Mitsuhiko's parents let them run a bit wild. Ayumi's big sister isn't very observant. And, of course, I doubt the children tell their parents the whole truth. Rather like, I think, another little boy I knew. The one who would tell his parents he'd just had an argument with a door rather than admit that he'd been beaten up by the school bully."

"Low blow. They wouldn't have done anything about it, anyway." Shoji climbed up to the cabinet beside the refrigerator and got a glass of water out. "I see your point about the potential dangers to Ai. And Conan, of course." Vermouth's concern over Conan was probably because he was the son of a good friend, but it was clear that she very much wanted to keep the boy from harm. As for Ai, well the girl had to finish her drug research or something very unpleasant might happen to Vermouth. _And _I_ am the only unpleasant thing I want to happen to her, right now._ "They need adult supervision."

Under the mask she was wearing, Vermouth giggled and Shoji snapped, "You know what I mean, woman."

"Even so. What are you looking for now?"

"My pills." She gestured at the next cabinet over and he got the bottle out. "Open 'em for me."

"Bossy." Vermouth complied though. "Are you okay? You haven't been wanting those in the day time."

"Just fine. Just dandy." Shoji took the painkillers she handed him, swallowed them down and sighed as he sat there. Noticing Vermouth's eyes on him, he forced himself to straighten. "What?"

"Does this mean you're going to cooperate?"

The decision had already been made hours ago. _No. Don't lie to yourself. You knew days ago you'd end up agreeing._ "Some caveats and conditions, though." At Vermouth's raised eyebrow he gave her as direct and intent a look as he could. "First off. Whatever you and I may have been to each other before, this" he gestured at himself "is a six and a half year old's body. Hands off. That means no dressing me and definitely no baths."

That brow rose a bit higher. "Even with your broken arm?"

"Considering what we were to each other once, the idea of you giving me a bath is just a bit too much to take. I'll figure out how to deal with it. But if I don't ask for help you keep your hands off me."

With a shrug that spoke volumes, Vermouth smiled. "Well, it's not like I have any particular interest in your body now." At his flush, she grinned a bit triumphantly. _She does so love to score one over the guys._

"Secondly. Keep away from the Black Organization at least when I'm around. For all I know, someone in the Family might recognize me."

"I was already planning on that." Vermouth turned serious. "I can't avoid working with them, though. Not without arousing suspicions and putting myself in danger. And if _I_ am in danger, Sho-chan, then so are you and so are our neighbors across the street, right?"

Shoji agreed with that. "Just remember. I won't go looking for it not in my condition but if I find out something you're up to, I'll pass the word to my boss. Somehow." There were, after all, limits to just how cooperative he would be. Protecting Ai and Conan was all well and good but he still owed a certain amount to Black and the others. Still had a duty he couldn't avoid. At Vermouth's nod of agreement, he continued. "Thirdly. You stay away from Ai. I don't want you doing anything to upset her."

"I plan on that, child. Your baby sister seems to have an instinctive sense for when members of the Black Organization are around. It could complicate things, but luckily Scarlatti Giorgio is a traveling businessman. We'll have to find an excuse to dump you on the good professor occasionally."

"Oh yes. That should be a thrill. I hate science." Shoji sighed. "One last thing, then."

"Hmmm?" Vermouth cocked her head, curiously. "You just covered all the bases I thought you would."

Shoji managed to shrug. "Take me to the hospital after supper. I may have messed up my arm again."

Her disguise was a good one. One could see her reactions through carefully applied makeup. "Shu...oji" Words failed her momentarily. At last she sighed. "This, I should have expected. You never could stay out of trouble. Could you at least pretend to try not making things worse? I don't need any more worries than I already have."

Shoji shrugged, feeling the faint edges of grogginess start as the pills set to work. "It sucks to be you. If you didn't want to get stuck with a six and a half year old boy then you shouldn't have given me that drug in the first place."

As Vermouth muttered under her breath, cleaning up her failed dinner, Shoji sat perched on the counter and watched her, grinning sourly. It wasn't going to be easy, nor was this something he'd have wanted to do, but it seemed he was stuck for the moment. In the meantime, he'd do his best to stay alive, his best to cope with the situation and his best to put whatever spokes he still could into the Black Organization's plans. As for Vermouth's plans he wasn't sure yet what they were and he didn't trust her or them. He'd just have to find out.

In the meantime, without actually pissing her off, he'd do his best to make his new 'Dad' regret ever having become his 'parent'. If one looked at it the right way _this could get fun._

The End.


End file.
